


Just Spit it Out

by LuciFern



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Arizona Coyotes | Phoenix Coyotes, Developing Relationship, M/M, Mentions of Crossdressing, OTP: Murder, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 06:45:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6184741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciFern/pseuds/LuciFern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The <i>typing</i> indicator had been on the screen for hours before Tobi gave up on getting a response.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Spit it Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sly_fck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sly_fck/gifts), [freetodream5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freetodream5/gifts), [optimusfine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/optimusfine/gifts).



> Totally tasked with writing this on twitter. It's short, stupid, and 
> 
> FOR GOD'S SAKE, PLEASE LEAVE THIS PAGE IF YOU FOUND IT BY LOOKING FOR YOUR NAME OR THE NAME OF SOMEONE YOU KNOW
> 
> Dedicated to Ash, Laynie, and Jae, the latter of which I owe two other stories that I promise I'm working on.

...

The bubble had been on the screen for twenty minutes. What on God's green earth could be taking him _twenty minutes_ to type out? Was he writing an essay? A novel? Could he only type with one finger at a time? Had someone switched his keyboard to German and he was looking up his sentences one word at a time?

This was why Tobi hated texting with his teammate slash housemate slash make-out buddy when he was visiting his family back home. Twitter or instagram were so much easier to use, since there was no expectation of immediate response, but Connor had insisted on texting from the moment his plane had boarded. And so Tobi had been inundated with descriptions of everything from the newer plane model to the couple coming back from their honeymoon in the seats next to Connor, complete with pictures.

The funniest had been the selfie with horrified expression, the tiny window behind the blond showing a baggage handler on the wing; he'd even managed to get the flow of Shatner's statement in text.

...

Tobi had eaten a complete meal, played football with his cousins, and talked EU politics with his father in the space between last checking his texts with Connor. The damned ellipsis was still there, taunting him, and he didn't like to think of himself as needy but damn it all, he wanted to know what was so profound that it took hours to type. And whatever it was had better be impressively eloquent enough that Connor couldn't just do a voice recording and send that.

And okay, maybe he was missing him just a bit, being so far apart, but it's not as if they wouldn't see each other in just a few months! Not long, really, and they'd be back to chirping each other for "dating" their teammates (*cough* Duke *cough*) when they went out with someone else for a bit. Not long, and he'd be able to indulge in his love of dressing up without worrying that someone's going to freak out on him (and he would bet paper money that Connor had a fetish for it, because birthdays and other celebrations almost always led to some seriously intense heavy petting, even more so when he wore the tiara or wig).

...

He was so close to just calling, because this was just ridiculous. There was no way, _no fucking way_ , that it was taking him four hours to write one text. He'd give it five more minutes, it was only... almost dinner time in Ohio. Yep. Five more minutes. Five minutes later, the ellipsis was gone. Still no new message. What. The. Fuck.

Screw this, Tobi was going to bed.

_Dude, what the hell?_

_If you don't like the idea just say so. quit ignoring me._

_tobi_

_tobi?_

_toooobiiiii_

The sheer volume of texts when he woke was, frankly, astounding. The fact that all but three were from Connor was amusing, bordering on stalker-ish, but that was normal for the American. That it took him close to half an hour to scroll through them all was saddening, though necessary. Connor was one of those people who would alternate one word responses with entire paragraphs, depending on what he was saying and how quickly he got interrupted, so he could never guess how long it would take.

Which was why he got scolded by his mom when he came out for food, phone in hand and eyes firmly glued to the screen. And if she told his dad to slap his head when she caught him rereading the message chain while eating, it didn't bother him. Nor did the teasing he got for the dopey smile he sported when he met up with friends.

Okay, maybe - just maybe - he let Connor stew for a while while he caught a movie, instead of letting him know that he saw the messages, but the idiot had fallen asleep with his hand on his phone and he deserved it. Of course, by the time Tobi decided enough was enough, he didn't know what to say.

...

Well, fuck.

...

_**You're an idiot.** _

The response was almost immediate, and he had an inexplicable rush of relief both that he'd actually typed something and that he'd gotten a reply instead of that damned ellipsis again.

_yeah but you love it don't deny it_

_so my idea y/n_

_**You're lucky you're cute. Yes.** _

Yeah, so maybe he was the one sending way too many messages from his flight back to the states, and maybe he was looking forward to seeing the surprise his housemate had planned a little too much. And maybe he was acknowledging, just to himself, that he needed a better definition for what they were and that was the most exciting part of Connor's stream of texts, that there was a better definition.


End file.
